JXHQ: Silence
by thechokesonyou
Summary: (Nolan-verse!) Fluff piece about our two favorite clowns. When Harley's around, she's irritating, and when she's gone... It's even worse. Short and very sweet.


The young blonde stared hazily over the Sound, the wind whipping her hair around her in a frenzy. Winters in Gotham City were always particularly rough, the large gusts of wind blowing in from the water causing everyone on the coast to freeze, not to mention the inches of snow that fell upon everything in sight. Harley Quinn loved winter, and this was one of the few reasons she loved living in Gotham.

The other scarce reasons included the noise of the city, and the history she had here. She hadn't lived in Gotham her whole life, and everyday she thanked God that she had moved here after school. If she hadn't… She wouldn't be who she was now.

"You're not wearing a _coat,_" A soft musing voice muttered indignantly behind her. She closed her eyes, a feeling of absolute serenity embracing her. She loved his voice.

"I like the cold," She replied, softly.

"You aren't wearing _shoes, either,_" He said, ignoring her response. She glanced down at her bare feet. She was standing on the roof of the old Sionis Steel Mill, a place her and the Joker had been shacking up in for weeks. Amused, she wiggled her toes on the frozen cement and giggled lightly.

He growled at her, but she knew the difference between this and his other, more feral growls. He was irritated, but she wasn't in danger. Suddenly, a heavy, stiff jacket fell around her slight shoulders and knocked her off balance. she grabbed the hem of the coat and looked over her shoulders. The Joker was standing two feet away, his hands in his pockets, lacking his purple coat that he loved so much. Goosebumps were raising on his bare arms. Harley hugged the jacket closer around her. It smelled like him. It smelled like cheap cigarettes, stale air, sweat. It was a pure combination of Joker, and just Joker, and Harley could've breathed in that smell all day, every day and would've been content. "I thought you were working," She said, glancing up at him again. He was so much taller than her, about seven inches. She kept her eyelashes feathered over her eyes.

He shrugged. "It was _quiet. Real _quiet. I didn't know where you'd gone. I got curious."

She tried to keep from smiling. She loved moments like this, when it was obvious he cared for her, and worried about her. By now, from experience she knew not to make a big deal about it. When she brought it up, he became so closed off, overcompensating for any slight emotion he showed. She didn't want to ruin this. "Oh."

He grunted. "You'll get _sick _if you stay out here much _longer. _Why don't you, uh, come _inside?_" She knew he wasn't asking. His suggestions were demands, but she didn't mind. Harley knew he did this because he loved her. He just didn't know how to show it right. She nodded then, realizing she had been lost in thought, and they both turned to go back inside the Mill. The majority of the henchmen were asleep already, and the ones that were awake were outside patrolling. J had been right. It _was _too quiet in here.

"Mr. J?" She asked. He only grunted in response, walking fast down the halls, his hand digging into her hip as she followed. "Do you want me to make you somethin' to eat?"

He shook his head. "No. No. I wanna _sleep,_" He said. Harley blinked. What time was it? It seemed much too early for him to be going to sleep now. Usually it was around four or so in the morning before he finally crawled into bed beside her.

"You do?" She asked, surprise not hidden in her voice. He grunted again, and in confusion, she followed him to their room. The old manager's office of the Steel Mill provided enough privacy and space for them to make their residency. J had had his men bring in a dusty old full sized mattress that was now shoved in the corner. There was a pile of old blankets, some scratchy and wooly, others thick and suffocatingly warm. The Joker barely had kicked off his shoes before collapsing on the bed and dragging Harley down with him. Just like most nights, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, holding her to his body possessively. "Mr. J?"

"Hm?" He questioned, his hot breath making strands of her hair move.

"I love you," She whispered, and felt his fingers twitch against her side. She didn't know what he felt when she said that. He always reacted differently. Sometimes it pleased him, sometimes he didn't care, sometimes he hated it, and sometimes he… She was jerked even harder towards him and he moved, pulling her down onto her back, and pinning her body down with his. His lips attacked hers with insistency and, in her ecstasy, Harley moaned. The kiss was brutal, just like most aspects of their relationship, but that was how both of them wanted it. His teeth yanked at her lips, his tongue swirling dominantly against hers, his hands, demanding on her waist. He tasted of warm alcohol and smoke and something like rot, and it was completely addicting. Harley was never able to get enough of it and her tongue licked and prodded at the insides of his mouth to get more, stroking the rough, dry skin that was his scars, her eyelids fluttering in response. He growled gently into her mouth and one of his hands cupped her neck, the intensity of the kiss growing. And as quickly as it had begun, it ended and he looked down at her, cupping her chin with a warm hand and looking into her wide eyes. She blinked up at him, breathless and delirious with love.

After a short moment, he stroked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. "I know you do, Harley," He whispered.


End file.
